My last post, written in the middle of a string of 12 and 13 hour days, was a tad bitter and a bit drunkenly phrased, mostly because I was bitter and drunk. So let me go back in time a bit. Cue: Swirly bullshit... I had a planned week of my usual shift combined with commissioning of switchgear, my project so my commissioning. As such, the week+ went long, long days, making arrangements, coordinating vendors, taking my own notes, deciding on parameters, keeping bosses in the loop and happy. This was being done successfully, until the usual blips:
A position I applied for, that I was qualified for, and although I was nervous about taking a bite that big on my way up the ladder, that I wanted, had face to face interviews. I, on the other hand, had not even had the polite phone HR interview informing me that I lacked even the qualifications of a Denny's dishwasher, and that I should consider a career in organ donation. I then managed, quite neatly, to run into and get introduced to the interviewer, while he was taking a tour. I can do math. I pasted a smile upon my shocked, yet devastatingly good-looking visage, and salvaged meeting this fellow, but this was not an interview. I lacked my usual good humour for the remainder of the day, got home, and spilled bile upon the intertubeez. The sociopath referred to? Got an interview, and whilst I prefer he go away by any means legitimate, I haz a bit o' pride, as well.
I found I needed unexpected matls for commissioning, in a hurry, and managed quite neatly to order twice as much as I needed of a much higher quality than I needed, and then had to inform my bosses, who are very good guys, but sonuvadammit.
Honestly, it was a successful, but exhausting, week. And on the last day, I found out the sociopath pooched the interview. Doesn't help me, but I gotta say the schaden was very freude - even though I'd still in the end be pleased if young Manson left my division via promotion or incarceration. Pbbffllttt!
Had a weekend recovery, including barbequeing with friends - Sweetie insisted I do nothing useful or with purpose for the weekend, and as is far too common, she was right. We saw, on the cheap (On Demand), A Haunted House, another Wayans Brothers epic. I gotta say, if little enough money is spent, and you're in the right frame of mind, it's funny. My recommendation and caveats.
After a reasonable work day Monday, today I got roped into another commissioning, not my project, which from my end entailed 12 hours of watching our building management automation and replying to an endless round of "do you see the pressures? Temps? Run on and off indicators? How about now? Are you sure you're online? Are you sure I'm online?" But done!
Tim Tebow got a workout at Spring Camp for the Lingerie League - the general consensus was that his footwork was troubling.
G(enocidal) W(arcriminal) Bush* opened his library. In a fit of reminiscence, they attempted to move protesters to a free speech zone in the Meditteranean Sea, they gave a bag of money to Hamid Karzai, and Dick Cheney shot someone in the head. *There must be differentiation between President Footie-Pajamas, Patrician Doofus Murderer Bush, Silverado Savings and Loan Bush, and Never Gonna Be President Until Granny Wrinkles Says He Can Bush.
Louie Gohmert (R. - Cuckoo's Nest) presented proof on Glenn Beck's show that President Obama bombed Pearl Harbor, failed to say the phrase 'Klaatu Barada Nictu' correctly while retrieving the Necronomicon Ex Mortis, and shot the sherriff, although he cannot prove the President shot the deputy. Yet.
The White House Correspondent's Dinner - Sarah Palin honored the restraining order and merely twitter-twatted at it, while Wolf Blitzer picked up a few more restraining orders for his collection, nothing to rate with his classic Lindsey Lohan episode, but the Justin Bieber is rare, and he had yet to add the de reguerre Order of The Blonde Republican Sex Kitten with Crossed Granite Countertops. Top notch, Pimp-Hand!
Posting will resume more or less normally until the next crisis, and beatings shall continue until morale improves. Ta, campers!
This has nothing to do with anything - it just makes me happy now...
You folks deserve truth, and I try to provide it, whether Bigfoot, the ascendancy of the Green Bay Packers, Kiss Sucks, or the state of the American corporation. Trying to get ahead in a business is like trying to trim your toenails with a woodchipper - likely to be painful and ultimately futile. Sociopathy is welcomed. A record of selling your grandparents to Soylent Green processing plants shall vault you up the ladder, to assistant director of the subcommittee to develop the gender/tense of the third clause of the proposal to amend the mission statement for the planning group to redesignate the stockholder's equity subparagraph of the 2cd quarter 10-K release. paleo, valuing his grandparents and choosing to honor their memory rather than turning them into yummy protein-based chocolate-and-brown-sauce-covered meal replacements, has achieved a certain tier of frustration today and needed to vent. Thank you, your tolerance for grievance is appreciated. As is the Windsor Beverage company.
Tomorrow, I shall be peachy and trudge on, but right now? Poop.
Lars Ulrich is the chief fucknugget in all of Fucknuggetville, James Hetfield is the crabbiest bastard on any continent (credit is due for this - although no one has any doubt of his politics, he's been pretty good about leaving them at the stage door. And I know, I'm being hypocritical since I agree with the Dixie Chicks - bugger off, my blog), and they both treated Jason Newsted, one of the genuinely nicer guys in rock, like hell for over a decade. Nevertheless, the first 4 or 5 Metallica albums were near perfection (no, I won't accuse them of 'selling out' - it's their right to do whatever they want, but they certainly went in a radio friendly direction that was not my bag.). From Master, 'Sanitarium'.
I'm on a little 80's metal kick recently, not so much the Strip bands, almost universally dreadful, some rare exceptions, ie., both George Lynch and Steve Lynch could really play guitar, Tommy Lee could really play drums, Vince Neil really had a 'punch-me' face. I was primarily NWOBHM, Maiden and Priest especially, and early speed/prog stuff, Metallica, Anthrax. Accept. Also, somewhat out in left field, Triumph - really underrated band. KISS sucks. A whole damn bunch. Nope, don't argue, I can prove it. Read this: KISS What's the first thing that crossed your mind? If it is anything other than SUCKS you are lying to yourself and need help. QED, FTMFW. Some weird ones - a great song from a decent band that tried to catch the 'hair' wave and failed, thereby saving their souls, 'Mighty Mouth' by Kix.
Since I brought up Accept, have to do this.
Neck hurting? Advil and ice. Or whiskey and ice, no matter...
Perhaps any one of my ones of readers may be able to help with this, and I'm not an IT guy so I'll explain as best as I know, but will prolly look dumb in the process.
So. I have a DVD of an interview with my mother and her family about their time in Germany through WWII and into the US. It was filmed on a mini-tape handheld film camera, and my cousin somehow managed to get it onto DVD. I want to chop it up into 15 min segments so I can post to BlechTube and then to a family blog.
My laptop would not read the DVD at first, until I found a VOB reader (?). It now plays in Quicktime, with sound, and a Title-Chapter menu. I tried to load the three files (in VOB format) to Windows Moviemaker, which I can use (in a dreadfully elementary manner) to create MP4s for posting. The video comes up on Moviemaker, but no sound seems to load.
Listening to morning radio, and the host, talking weather, turned "tornadoes in the southern states" and 'snow in the Twin Cities" (para) into 'snornadoes'. He later struggled mightily to walk it back, but I am, if nothing else, a stickler for stuff. Hence, this needed to be written.
Mr. McNeil, Mr. Wonderful,
Your mention of snownadoes was a delightful nostalgia trip for me, but then you claimed it was merely a mis-statement. I must beg to disagree!
When I was a young child, I spent many summers in Mooselick, Saskatoon, dead in the center of Canada's famous 'Snownado Alley'. Snownadoes are a particularly dangerous form of tornado - a snownado of C3 or larger (we didn't use the F scale there) could put a snowflake through a 2x4 like a ninja star, which is why the original hardy settler's homes were made of sod. And a long winter like this presents the problem that this is close to the usual time to water your home, in fact, they use the famous 'moon test', where in the homeowner had to sit bare-butted in his home for a half an hour, and if he did not lose feeling in his cheeks, it was time to fertilize or the R value of the sod would plummet, and winters in Mooselick were harsh, especially with the snownadoes, until block construction came to the tundra, and although the snownadoes made a fine stucco texture in the block for a year or two, eventually repairs had to be made, which is how we became known as the 'Concrete Patch Capital Of Saskatoon', even having the 'Skimcoat Festival' with the eagerly anticipated election of the 'Tuckpoint Princess', which my dad took me to every year, until the year Mary Jim Diefenbaker took the risque tactic of showing her thermal socks.
Way back in the day, not early telebision but in my college years, there was the Sci-Fi Channel.
And it was good. A lot of cheese, Star Treks 1, 3 and 5, one of the Star Wars original trilogies every Sunday afternoon. It even picked up the last few years of MST3K. (Of course, it is also responsible for the demise and burial of MST3K and there is a special fuzzy spark in hell awaiting.)
And then the relentless improving began, the rule of the Overnights and the Demographics. The addition of Friday Night Wrestling. Anime yes, anime no, anime yes, anime no. I believe in ghosts, amongst many other thingies. Sci-Fi started Ghost-Hunters. Excitement for paleo. And added wrestlers. [And Meatloaf (WTF?)] I don't believe in wrestling. It then jumped the shark entirely, with every show finding so much evidence for everything that by now everyone should have a pet poultergeist. (Difficult to housetrain, however.)
Then they changed their name, under the assumption that Hooked On Phonics is the new Esperanto.
More reality programs. I don't know about you, but I like the movie Highlander. I like Battle Beyond The Stars, I LOVE The Last Starfighter. I do not love Scare Tactics.
And now, premiered tonight?
Deep South Paranormal
Appears to combine the hard science of Paranormal State with the sophistication of Gator Boys/Extreme Exterminators/House of Flav.
I need the execs tarred, feathered, and sentenced to Celebrity Tick Check for a season.
Sweetie (nee’ Donner) and I needed a vacation badly, just a
few days, anything, just to get the hell out of town, away from the house and
jobs in particular. Sweetie, being a practical woman, did not waste time
waiting for paleo to plan, or think, or even agree, and just went ahead and set
it up. (And she was, as is frequently the case, completely right. I adore my
wife, I really do – it was only a few days ago, after a dreadful work weekend,
that I even fully got on board. And holy dammit am I happy!)
Teh
Gathering Storm (Literaterally)
The forecast on Wunderground.com was brightly, hypnotically
colored, therefore ominous. (I know, wever. I wouldn’t be able to put the site
together, so more power to ‘em. I myself envision lots of greys, blacks,
paisleys…) paleo, having completely bought in and taken credit for the whole
idea, looked at the map and laughed, LAUGHED, I tells ya. We needed this, and
so I made a contingency plan.
Loading up the 4WD instead of her far more comfortable
lady-chariot, I set several goals. If we made it to Blaine, we stayed in
Blaine. To Forest Lake? Forest Lake. Grand Casino in Hinckley, Black Bear
Casino in Nowhere, and Duluth were the continuing goals before our endpoint,
Two Harbors on the North Shore. (I prayed to every
god I’d ever heard of to have it not be teh casinos – I ain’t’nt a gambler, not
a bit.) We had an appointment in Forest Lake and while it was not a fun drive,
we made it. Well, late. Well, quite late, but everyone else had cancelled for
the morning, so it was merely annoying. Having finished our appointment, we
fueled up, gas and caffeine, some
temperature had been introduced into the situation and the roads had cleared.
Right past Hinckley, right into
Chaos!
The glimpses of trees on my right and left, and occasional
taste of rumble-strip, vaguely defined the interstate. Blowing snow reduced the
vision to anywhere between about a quarter mile and a negative integer. We were
not the only deeply, deeply wrong people on the road, which was a problem – I
had complete faith in my pick’em’up truck, I have NO faith in anyone else on the roads, a lack of faith justified by
those attempting to pass me on the undefined lane, and the CROCKSOAKING IDJITS
driving WHITE GODDAM CARS WITHOUT RUNNING LIGHTS ON in A BLEEDIN’ WHITEOUT.
I considered stopping at Black Bear, but the roads
themselves were not horrible, there was grip for the tires, and as I said, I
totally trust my truck, and I never saw the damn place anyhow and missed the
exit. It was only 20 miles (55 minutes) to Duluth and I have been known to be
stubborn. Once. Errr, a bit.
My kidneys had fashioned a white flag and planted it in my
forebrain, so we stopped in Duluth for some relief. Blessedly, Duluth city had
sand and had apparently decided not to store it over the summer, and for the
first time in hours we were driving the speed limit (never having seen a change
in our actual speed – hell, for one short stretch we were speeding. Rebellion,
anarchy now! Duluth, by the way, is a damn cool city, very pretty, 20degF
colder than anywhere else on the planet no matter the time of year, lots of
cool shit! You go now.)
The Final
Leg – To Orodruin
The roads between Duluth and Two Harbors were fine and we
got to town in 35 minutes. Yeah, anticlimactic. Bugger off. We stopped for
groceries and directions and drove to the resort. On arrival, paleo did have a
need to get his blood pressure back under control.
The Stonegate resort, right on the North Shore – our cabin
is 30 feet from Lake Superior-induced hypothermia, and the storm and seas have
been raging since our arrival, it is honestly perfect. To an extent, I am a
storm junkie. Many years ago, I had the fortune to stay in a similar location,
on the North Shore, during a helluva blow, spray to the cabin windows, the
arrhythmic pounding of surf and whistling of wind that counter-intuitively
lulls you, when in a warm cabin, admittedly, into a deep feeling of peace. I’ve
wanted to experience that again very badly.
I got it. I got it.
Sweetie and I are in heaven on earth.
Before she went to bed (I was already out), sweetie went
outside for a couple minutes.
Sweetie – “It was
scary – you couldn’t really see the lake unless you really stared. But it
sounded like sitting next to the tracks in a tunnel as an unseen train went by,
it was horrible.”
The Stonegate has a number of cabins, three of which are on
the water, but all are really nice – modern conveniences (I’m getting too old
to winter camp – bbllfftt!), gas fireplaces, there is a (currently iced over)
observation deck. A ton of windows and space, but placed and built for privacy.
Kusarigama. The manager is a militantly bubbly young woman named Anne who we
found very friendly and helpful, can’t say enough good about Anne and the whole
place. To be ever so briefly serious (moi?), this place is awesome, if you are
looking for a great vacation spot I recommend it highly.
Scenic 61
B. (Brad) E. Nelson Scandinavian (primarily Swedish according to Sweetie, but other stuff too - a bodhran which I would have ended up with until I found out it was not for sale and remembered I ain't got rhythm) Crafts. Sweetie rediscovered the 'magic of Visa, but she is also getting into crafts herself (yay! - early retirement), and the gentleman spent a generous amount of time with her giving tips and showing thingies - if he had a website I'd direct you there, but his business plan has yet to fully come to fruition. And he had this! Which I shall be acquiring.
I am a big fan of small town hardware stores, as they must serve everyone, had to buy a box of left handed Veeblefetzer Grblems for Mrs. Tookalefse. In 1973. They still have 4. And then there is this.
At a coffee shop on Scenic 61, we came across this, which convinces me we left too soon - hey, smelt don't eat themselves...
Oh, and smoked fish! Can't forget the smoked salmon and lake trout for paleo - I couldn't find the shop that I remembered (shockers! Ummm. What was I saying?) But we ended up at Russ Kendall's, rather highly regarded, however, I had not yet been there. Fixxored! I have had smoked fish for lunch two days in a row, thereby making my tummy happy and annoying the shit out of my co-workers. Our last night Sweetie and I cooked - grilled spare ribs, baked potatoes (lingonberry butter! - not my taste of tea but Sweetheart thought it was good). And, we finally got some nice weather.
Back Again Of course, it snowed and sleeted like a bastard on the way home...
A Note On
Travel Writing
I’m not a travel blogger, which should be obvious based on
my travel blogging. I’ve only done a couple other pieces, one of dubious truthiness, and a couple properertrip blogs of great little trips and fantastic places that I wanted to share. This post is
a properer trip blog as well, this is a cool resort, and I genuinely want everyone to get to the North Shore, it
is that neat.
I want to share this stuff because most travel writers
ignore the real treasures in the world, in favor of Paris, or London, any place
in the Michelin guide. Fuck Michelin. I’ve been to London – it’s perfectly
good, a slightly more interesting big city, but fundamentally it is just a big
city. I’ve been to Paris. Ummm.
Every twenty years or so, for a couple centuries, Viking
would sail the Seine to Paris and burn it to the ground. Some people think that
this indicates the violent culture of barbarians, or, a culture with the
foresight to realize that their horned hat get-up would eventually become the
logo of a sub-mediocre NFL teams owned by a Sopranos cosplayer. Both theories
are wrong. The Vikings were trendsetters, and we should get on the train. And
don’t accuse me of Francophobia, most of France is quite lovely, but Paris is
squalor defined, the people as rude as advertised, (the roaches are better
behaved), and I never understood the attraction until I went there, at which
point I realized the attraction is because of rampant insanity amongst the
percentage of the population that likes Paris.
I wonder if small portion of a travel writer’s brain ever
goes back to that day when, fresh out of J-school, maybe even Columbia, and
with dreams of taking down a President, or at least pointing out repeatedly
that the President is a black man with a dangerously exotic name and working
for Fox, the editor of the Snappertown Daily Wossname assigned the young writer
the assignment of covering the opening of the new Denny’s. And dies a little.
So professional travel writers? Take your ‘101 Cool Things To Do In Tokyo On Your
Publication’s Dime’ guide and beat
it senseless with something heavy, and get out and actually see things, real
things. Please?
My previous post, I said twice, for the record, Human Beings Suck. I am wrong. There are human beings who should choke on a bag of salted hammers:
The New York Post
Fox News
Matt Drudge
Pammycakes Gellar
Jennifer Rubin
The preachers who, tomorrow, will blame this on 'liberal Boston'
The NRA who, tomorrow, will claim that the only thing that stops a bad guy with a bomb is a good guy with a bomb
The republicans in congress who, tomorrow, will blame this on backpacks and video games and evolution
The rightbloggers who are even now claiming
1.) President OBlackMan did not say terrrrrists in his address 2.) ????? 3.) Prophet!
And especially, the rotten horrid subhuman sonuvabitch(es) what did it
All these people long ago forfeited their place at the big kids table. But, most people do NOT suck.
The cops who who rushed to the scene to help when all was chaos and the stability of the situation was clearly in question
The EMS personnel who rushed to the scene to help when all was chaos and the stability of the situation was clearly in question
The bomb squad personnel who rushed to the scene to help when all was chaos and the stability of the situation was clearly in question
The marathoners, of all ages and religions and colors and orientations, who rushed to the scene to help
The spectators, of all ages and religions and colors and orientations, who rushed to the scene to help
The people offering places for the runners and families to get grounded and locate friends
The people lining up to give blood and supplies
The people all across the United States praying to their respective deities for grace for the victims
There are no real knowns yet and won't be for some time, nature of the beast. Note the respective size of the two groups. I think the good guys are winning.
AUTHORITIES HELD AT BAY WITH OFFERS OF SCOTCH, CIGARS, GRILLED SPARE RIBS
"THE FLAG SEEMS TO BE A BLACK BANANA HAMMOCK. WE DON'T RECOGNIZE THE SYMBOLISM, BUT IT'S GOOD SCOTCH," REPORTED SHERIFF OLAF SWEDENWHATSITSSON
Actual TL;DR vacation post coming today or tomorrow. Work sucks.
UPDATE: This is not really the day for fake news flashes, humorous or whatever I write. The title of the post has been changed as well. Human beings suck.
Neither wind, not sleet, nor snow, nor dark of night, nor blood alcohol content, shall prevent us from going to the Arrowhead for a long weekend, to actually introduce ourselves to each other again, and to talk about anything but:
teh basement
teh jobs
my ridiculous ninja outfit unless we get into cosplay
my ridiculous infatuation with politics, sasquatch , Companions, my broken ass, my recipe for the perfect glass of scotch...eh, maybe the last, and the second
stuff
Hopefully I'll have some nice photos when we get back, not ITTDGY quality, but nice!
I try not to celebrate death, really, and I feel sympathy for her family and her husband, presumably, she had to have at least a couple positive attributes, ie., John Wayne Gacy was a charitable clown. But she, and the imbecilic bloodthirsty criminal Reagan, share a great deal of blame for our current issues. Although neither were conderpative enough to become current leaders, they helped to create today's modern culture of greed, hatred, backlash against basic human rights for anyone except white men. Satan has a new chew toy and I'm quite content.
She was a horrible person, destroying the economy of the UK in 11 years. She will be missed only by The City, The House Of Lords, The Daily Mail, the GOP, and the BNP.
Enjoy the fall, Mags, it'll be the last pleasure you'll have.
This was taken whilst driving to work. Vegetable Revolution. (That's what the vaguely cyrillic style lettering under the star-and-lettuce-and-shovel on the door says.) The website is for self-contained, self-watering patio and trellis gardens, the truck appears to be a genuine relic (although I ain't'nt a car guy). I feel better - this is cool. Starting work, well...
Shorter: Four high school football players had sex with two 13 year old girls. And if they claim it was consensual, that just means they fail at reading. Rape, pedophilia, and the two girls are being threatened. Where in the hell have I heard this song before? Oh yeah, Steubenville. Notre Dame. I'm probably missing one or ten-thousand.
Betcha the judge, and Candy Crowley, say something about these unfortunate ...stars... and their unfortunate use of social media, as opposed to, for example, saying RAPISTS ARE SCUM and need 40-50 years in the box to reflect on the wrongnessitude of their decision-making process.
And also, I'll say it. IT IS TIME FOR SCHOOL SPORTS TO GET AUDITED TO THE MOLECULAR LEVEL. I am sick of tax money and the money of parents who have children with academic skills being used to subsidize jock culture. And the use/abuse of women and 13 year old girls is very much a part of that culture, as it is in too many other arenas. Fuck this noise. I am sick to death of it.
If high school sports are such moneymakers, start a private club system for these 'stars', have intramurals for the kids who just want some fun competition, and enforce the hell out of minimum grades.
At the college level, if these programs, which lets face it, are nothing more than farm teams for the pro leagues, make so much damn money, let the goddam pros start a farm league - works for baseball. Again, have intramurals for students who want some fun competition, but get the jockocracy out of our universities. NOW.
The word I'm looking for? Sociopathy? Close. Ummmm.
Oh yeah. Heartless motherfucking co-bags.
These are the thugs, peckerneck. I know you are hiding behind Gretchen's skirt, but if you dare peek, this is called 'people wanting just a little piece of the American dream'. Maybe this is a little less scaryish for you.
So yeah, tell me again how fucking great we are. Yeah, I know a whole damn bunch of us are perfectly fine, more or less, but what fucking infects us to get these fucking screwballs?
Not really. I am a liberal, hell, a socialist, more or less, but on no point do I consider myself squishy, or soft. Today, this statement is being issued in context of the death penalty. In my brain, I'm against it. No squishy reasons, people do evil things for laughs, or for no particular reason at all - not every criminal is a victim of his/her circumstance. And in my heart, quite a mercurial organ, I can see something and scream for vengeance. My concerns are that we be DAMN sure of guilt before executing someone, and that we apply strict, fair standards. Neither of my concerns are addressed in modern jurisprudence. North Carolina
The N.C. Senate on Wednesday approved a bill that would end the Racial Justice Act and restart executions in North Carolina. The bill passed 33-14, with the vote along party lines... The Racial Justice Act allows death-row inmates and defendants facing the death penalty to use statewide statistics to show that racial bias played a significant role in their case. If successful, a judge would commute an in-mate’s death sentence to life in prison without the possibility of parole, the only remedy under the law. Prosecutors around the state and Republican legislators strongly opposed the law. Last year, state legislators scaled back the Racial Justice Act to prohibit the use of statewide statistics. Then-Gov. Bev Perdue vetoed the legislation, but the General Assembly overrode her veto. (Emphasis by paleo - Republicans and those dratted facts...)
Texas' active use of the death penalty has led death penalty opponents to claim that Texas has executed persons who were, in fact, innocent.
Cameron Todd Willingham
One notable case involves Cameron Todd Willingham, who was executed by lethal injection on February 17, 2004 for murdering his three daughters in 1991 by arson, but where a 2009 article in The New Yorker, and subsequent findings, have cast doubt on the evidence used in his conviction. In 2009, a report conducted by Dr. Craig Beyler, hired by the Texas Forensic Science Commission to review the case, found that "a finding of arson could not be sustained". Beyler said that key testimony from a fire marshal at Willingham's trial was "hardly consistent with a scientific mind-set and is more characteristic of mystics or psychics”.[46] GovernorRick Perry expressed skepticism of Beyler's findings. He stated that court records showed evidence of Willingham’s guilt in charges that he intentionally killed his daughters in the fire. Perry is quoted in the report as stating of Willingham, "I’m familiar with the latter-day supposed experts on the arson side of it," and Perry said that court records provide "clear and compelling, overwhelming evidence that he was in fact the murderer of his children."[47] The Corsicana Fire Department also released a 19-page rebuttal of Beyler's report, stating that the report overlooked several key points that would show Willingham to be guilty.[48] On July 23, 2010, the Texas Forensic Science Commission released a report saying that the conviction was based on "flawed science" and that there is no indication that the arson authorities were negligent or committed willful misconduct. Willingham remains the only person in the United States executed since 1976 for murder by arson. [49]
The Willingham case belongs to both fmr. Pres. George W. Bush and Governor Rick Perry. For Pres. Footie-Pajamas McDryDrunk, it is merely another mark in a book that will have him marching triumphally to hell before being invited by Satan personally, e-Vite maybe?, to share a skinny-dip in a burning sulfurous lake. Governor Good-Hair? Possessor of a somewhat colorfully named ranch? Beelzebubba? Hell as well, but not quite as revered as teh Shrub. Honestly, though, if we could successfully address my concerns re: the death penalty - note: humans? - I could accept the death penalty and actually see it expanded. The carpenters required to build gallows on Wall Street alone could significantly affect the nation's unemployment rate. Not to mention a couple advisors will be needed in the Obama administration to replace Jamie Dimon and Timothy Geithner. Head of Murder Incorporated Wayne Lilpeepeeierre. Locally, Ponzi master Tom Petters and Name-It-And-Claim-It, Babble-Yer-Way-To-Enlightenment preacher Mac Hammond. And then there is this.
COLUMBUS, Ohio (AP) — Condemned killer Steven Smith's argument for mercy isn't an easy one. Smith acknowledges he intended to sexually assault his girlfriend's 6-month-old daughter but says he never intended to kill the baby.
Shorter: Because he only meant to rape the baby, not kill it, he should not be executed because Ohio law requires premeditated murder for a capital murder conviction. And, although IANAL, a clever enough lawyer could make the argument, ignoring the fact that raping a 6 month old baby is going to kill the child. This is actually somewhat of a tough thing for me. 'Tough thing', paleo? Yes, trying to maintain internal consistency, given my views on the death penalty, that as it exists I think it is deeply flawed. But - - if there is ever a case where it is called for, even with my views and striving to be consistent and logical, this fucker needs to die. Now. His human card needs to be cut in half, along with his neck. He genuinely needs to be ended horribly. Screw consistency, I want bloody vengeance. Pedophilia, rape, hurting of anyone/thing weaker than you? Let there be fire.
New Companion Clara 'Oswin' Oswald? Thank you very much may I have some more - I think she's gonna be a lot of fun. Moving day, paleo and sweetie go underground with the moles? Done, more to say but I am still bitter, well, not really, but it is done and I found my other shoe and we moved B-I-L into his new bedroom where he has space and the stripper pole sweetie would not let me erect in the basement and we now have a spare bedroom with a bed so no more of anyone sleeping in the street, LUXURY, We dreamed of a street to sleep on, why when we got home father would thrash us to sleep with his belt, where was I?
Why did Gluegle put up a picture of George Lopez for Easter? The War on Easter has clearly ramped up. Next thing you know, Peeps will be limited to under 16 oz. and then, STUFF! (PS - My insulin depleated pancreas dripped with fear and sweat as I typed that sentence. And yes, 'depleated'. Don't judge me.) Does anyone know of a good book/tutorial on Microsoft Project and on ITIL, sort of For Dummies style guides? The stuff I see online looks likely to make my poor old sodden heid' go all splodey, all multiple PDFs and the dreaded Microsoft 'Help' guides with the damnable paperclip, known the world over as 'Clippy, Executive Assistant To The Four Horsemen.' "Horsemen of what?", you may ask. Dunno. Notre Dame? Well, Notre Dame is evil, a lot evil, the kind of evil that makes evil things say, "Bollocks, you cats are genuinely fucked up!" But not evil enough. Teh Apocalypse? Bah, luxury. Something really evil, like the Man-Eating Cow, or Joseph Stalin. The Four Horsemen of the Wells Fargo Wagon from The Music Man? Warmer, fuzzier... The Four Horsemen of any western starring Kevin Costner? Teh Eagles?
Oh, and the below, ZEUS - ARE YOU GONNA WASTE MY TIME, is frakkin' awesome! Hard to describe, compare, like the Eagles if they weren't so flippin' evil. (The Four Horse of Teh Eagles? I can roll with that I think. See above edit. Joe Walsh remains cool, however...)
UPDATE:
NO. This is nothing at all like the godforsaken Eagles, who are to music as lemon meringue is to new brake-pads - pointless and likely to cause multiple deaths. I will go with The James Gang, however...
